Quiet
by Dominick Disaster
Summary: Sweden has a reason to stare, it just doesn't occur to him as one.


**Title:** Quiet  
**Series/Disclaimer:** Axis Powers Hetalia, which I do not own.  
**Pairing/Characters:** Berwald "Sweden" Oxenstierna/Tino "Finland" Väinämöinen  
**Warnings:** The cute _could_ kill you.  
**Summery:** Sweden has a reason to stare, it just doesn't occur to him as one.

**Author's Note:** *FLAIL* DONE!

Tao-fetish over on dA has successfully completed her mission of getting me into Axis Powers Hetalia. Though neither of us could foresee that I would be an obsessive twit over Sweden until it was already too late! As such, Sweden is now my favorite APH character and my favorite pairing is SuFin.

I've been working on this piece for about a week. It started off as a pointless drabble that I probably wouldn't have been comfortable putting up anywhere. But after much work and more help from Tao than I can possibly thank her for - here's the final product. The first of several planned SuFin fanfictions, including a big project that I'm looking forward to.

And fearing. D:

Thanks bunches o'crunches of ooodles of noodles to Tao. I wouldn't have been able to do anything without youuuu~!

But, yes. Please read and review to tell me what you think! It's always appreciated. Particularly considering my insecurity over characterizations. .|||||||.

- x - x - x -

The other's heartbeat was the most prominent sound in the room - which attested more to the silence of the house than the volume of Tino's heart. Berwald wasn't sure when, exactly, the room had settled into such a state of peace that he could have even noticed. But the revelation had crept into him like the warmth of direct sunlight. It wasn't the sort of obvious recognition that was so easily noticed it felt like a slap in the face. No, it was the kind of slow, pleasant thought that made him relax. When he realized what the steady beat was, he had felt his entire essence breathe. He had been listening to Tino's heartbeat for the past half hour, taking comfort from it, without fully realizing what it was. Just like the slow sunrise; it had happened for so long, so obviously, that his mind had hardly registered it.

And, just like the sunrise, Tino's heartbeat filled him with a tingling and welcome warmth. He could feel it, a soft and steady pulse against his chest, more than he could hear it. Entwined together beneath the sheets, twisted limb for twisted limb, it was only the vibration that was testament to their proximity. Only Tino's fluttering heart, through muscle, bone, tissue, and clothes, that mattered. Beyond that, it all seemed so distant, and Berwald wasn't sure how to feel about living off of something intangible even for a moment.

His mind moved slowly to something more present, something real that he could focus on for the here and now. One of Tino's arms was wrapped lazily with his, the small fingers formed to little more than the ghost of a hold on the larger male's wrist. The considerate gaze was temporarily caught in the soft curves of the pale digits and he wondered, only for a moment, how his wife's fingers could possibly stay so soft. But the thought drifted away as Tino shuddered in his sleep, tensing his legs where they snaked around Berwald's to help himself scoot closer. Without a word, the blanket was pulled up and tucked around the two of them with refreshed security and Tino's head disappeared beneath his chin, but he became more real than he ever could have been just being looked at.

The clean, warm smell of the sauna still clung to his blonde hair, making each inhale like a fresh breath that guided him closer and closer to the comfortable edges of sleep. He could feel the other's exhales soak through his shirt and slide over his collarbone. They rolled across his skin before dissipating to a nothing that was quickly replaced by a new breath. The same fingers whose softness he'd been wondering about just seconds ago danced briefly across his back before deciding their resting place. Even then, the knuckle of Tino's thumb continued to brush at a small chosen circle of space between his shoulder blades. A miniscule, soothing gesture that lasted for several minutes before slowing and disappearing all together.

He wasn't sure when they had started sleeping together again. They used to do it all the time when they were younger, living with Denmark. But as they got older, Tino had grown uncomfortable sharing a bed. Berwald still felt that he should have known that day was coming, when he walked into their shared room to find two beds. Tino had scrambled to explain it, like he thought Berwald's reaction would turn sour. It would have been a lie to say he wasn't surprised, but he pointed out that he wasn't Denmark and Tino could sleep in his own bed if he wanted to.

From there, they slept separately and it seemed more common occurrence than sleeping together ever had been. Their room was shared and they remained close, but there was only one instance after they began sleeping apart that Tino had stayed in bed with him again. It was after a particularly bad fight with Denmark that had left him with a broken arm and two fractured ribs. His head was swimming and he had thrown up until his stomach was empty and felt like it would never again digest something. Both unwilling and prohibited from asking for assistance, Berwald was fairly certain that he would end up passing out on the cold floor amidst his own blood and vomit. After all, Denmark was hardly the type to help someone that tried to establish their independence from him and, despite being beaten, the consensus was if he could fight then he could take care of himself when he lost.

He had barely been able to hear Tino shuffling across the room after Denmark left, unaware of his presence until an arm settled across his shoulders. Their different statures made it physically impossible for him to support much of the taller nation, but something about his attempt sent a refreshed wave of strength through Berwald. He knew that he limped; that his face was swollen and his shoulders sank; that his vision was horribly blurred due to not having his glasses, which had been left behind with their lenses cracked beyond use. Everything about him gave the appearance of broken defeat and he _knew _it. But with Tino walking beside him, fingers curled tightly in the torn material of his jacket, Berwald felt like he had never walked with more assurance. Whatever shame should have been there simply wasn't, because he didn't feel like he'd lost the fight at all.

Tino had stayed with him through the entire night, his body weighing down its old place in the mattress beside him. Berwald could feel the cool fingertips affectionately brushing across his fevered forehead as the smaller country talked about almost anything that came to mind. Their tentative touch had been a very real comfort through the thick fog of pain and nausea, providing something real and reassuring that he could latch onto. And with each thing that Berwald focused on - Tino's touch, his voice, his place on the mattress - he felt more relief. His body's various aches and the failure of losing yet another battle seemed like only small bumps on a much longer road.

As he lay there now, with the smaller nation's warmth lining his own and his scent so overwhelming, Berwald questioned how he had been able to fall asleep alone for so many years. It seemed like a task that shouldn't have been as easy as it was. His bright cyan gaze turned down to the sleep-tangled strands, as if looking at Tino would help him to reason it. In truth, the sight only made his stomach turn vaguely while the rest of his body fell still, as if even the slightest movement could wake him. The blonde watched, slack jawed and mouth faintly agape, as Tino did little more than sleep.

To anyone else in the world, there would have been nothing special about the way the smaller nation slept. Some people may have noticed the "cuteness", but there was always a sort of charm in such a peaceful, resting face. No one but Berwald could have noticed the way the longer strands of his bangs separated just slightly, giving a narrow glimpse of the closed eyes beneath. They wouldn't have appreciated the soft twitches along the edges of his lips, as though he wanted to smile but couldn't figure the gesture out through the curtain of sleep. His cheeks were dusted with the faintest pink circles along their curves, testifying to the comfortable warmth he found in being tucked beneath the blankets, tucked beside Berwald.

All of these things reaffirmed something in him. Something that allowed him to sleep at night, that let him leave the house without worrying he would return to be alone. He kept Tino safe, but not only in a sense that it could be seen, it was beyond that. Having him close, in his bed, and _sleeping, _was proof that Tino himself felt safe. That he could sleep and live without worry or fear, despite wars raging around them, countries dissolving to little more than text in history books. All of these things left his shoulders for long enough to fall asleep...and that was a gift to Berwald. It was something so simple, yet so necessary, that he was never sure if it was appropriate to thank him for it.

He moved his hand, daring the slight motion of brushing his fingertips across the top-most layer of Tino's hair, then he hesitated. He waited in absolute quiet and immobility for something to happen, anything that would tell him if he had crossed some dangerous line. But nothing in the room moved because of it: worlds were not ended, Hanatamago remained sleeping at the end of the bed, and even Tino stayed still. His breathing level, lips twitching just faintly at the edges, his fingers resting like feathers against Berwald's back. But, for the Swede, it felt like a ripple had spread through the room, tearing it free of the dreamy vision it had been and making it real. Reassuring. _Alive_.

Time slipped by and he waited, but the feeling remained, both in the best and worst sense. He felt grounded now, not clinging to a phantom or dream world like he had in the past. With the house so quiet, even for such a brief time, it had felt like those years when he lived alone. He had latched onto the sound of the other's heartbeat, fearing that it was the only real thing there, that if he tried to hold on to anything more than that, the illusion would slip away. And now, knowing that he was here for real, Berwald couldn't tear his eyes away from Tino, as if afraid that the gesture could be taken offensively and when he looked back, his wife would be gone. It was a stupid but powerful fear that he couldn't chase away, in great part because he had been in the company of _someone_ for much of his life. The idea of going back to being alone, even for so short a time, made him feel like his body was a cage that was too small for him, but his insides couldn't stop growing.

Tino remained unaware of it in his unconsciousness and, for his part, did nothing more than sleep, but Berwald found immeasurable comfort in the soft beating of his heart; the paced breaths; the soft flicks of his eyes beneath their lids. It comforted him, sweeping the fear into the corner like forgotten dust and allowing him peace of mind. Tino captivated and held him to the point it seemed unreal when his eyes finally did blink open. Purple orbs met his, staring for several long seconds before his lips conformed to words and their attention danced off to the side, as if the use of one sense had to be exchanged for another.

"B-Berwald?"

"Mm?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

Something about the word "staring" locked into a very embarrassed part of the blonde's mind, recalling instantly that the action made Tino uncomfortable. In his defense, he never realized he was doing it, but still his cheeks tinged a slight pink, and his fingers flexed nervously behind the other's back. Seeing this, of course, triggered Tino's anxiety and he scrambled to fix his mistake in the form of flustered chatter. It was an expected reaction, almost an excuse to do nothing; He would go off about anything his mind could come up with until something happened to make him stop. And usually this was enough, usually it mattered so little.

But this morning, Berwald, who usually didn't mind the talking, leaned down to press his lips to the bridge of Tino's nose. In part because their angle wouldn't allow him to reach his wife's mouth. However, it was more because he didn't mind the talking...but he didn't mind the quiet either.


End file.
